Chapter 3

Apartamento de Ji-hoon, 00:07 AM

El silencio de la noche es roto por el suave clic de la cerradura. Ji-hoon entra en su apartamento, su figura es una sombra contra la penumbra mientras cierra la puerta detrás de él y avanza. El reloj digital de la cocina parpadea a las 00:07 AM. Apenas han pasado treinta minutos desde su encuentro con Mi-sook.

Sin encender las luces, Ji-hoon se dirige a su habitación con pasos medidos. El apartamento, impecablemente ordenado, contrasta con el caos que bulle en su interior. Pasa junto a un jarrón con una orquídea perfectamente cuidada.

En su dormitorio, activa el mecanismo oculto que revela su santuario secreto. La puerta se desliza silenciosamente, como si comprendiera la necesidad de discreción. Una vez dentro, la cierra y enciende la tenue luz azul que baña la habitación con un resplandor etéreo.

El aroma antiséptico del lugar invade sus fosas nasales, mezclándose con el olor metálico de la sangre que aún impregna su ropa. Ji-hoon inhala profundamente, saboreando la mezcla como si fuera el más exquisito de los perfumes.

Sus ojos escudriñan las paredes cubiertas de fotos y notas, un mosaico macabro de sus "logros". Con las manos que ahora tiemblan ligeramente, saca la foto que tomó de Mi-sook. Lo mira fijamente por un momento, su rostro es una máscara de fascinación mórbida, antes de colocarlo en el tablero junto a sus otras víctimas.

Ji-hoon se sienta en la silla frente al tablero, su respiración se acelera a medida que los recuerdos de la noche inundan su mente. El terror en los ojos de Mi-sook, el corte del bisturí en su piel, el cálido flujo de sangre... Cada detalle se reproduce vívidamente, enviando olas de placer a través de su cuerpo.

"Ah..." Gime suavemente, cerrando los ojos y dejando que las sensaciones lo envuelvan. Sus manos se mueven casi por su propia voluntad, desabrochándose los pantalones con urgencia. Comienza a acariciarse frenéticamente, su cuerpo tiembla de excitación.

Los gemidos se intensifican, volviéndose más animales, más incontrolados. Su espalda se arquea en la silla, sus caderas se mueven rítmicamente. El cuero cruje bajo su peso, un contrapunto a sus jadeos irregulares.

"Oh, sí... Mi-sook..." Jadea entre gemidos, con la voz ronca de placer. "Entonces... perfecto..."

Su mente se nubla, perdido en el recuerdo de la tortura y la muerte. Cada corte, cada grito ahogado, cada gota de sangre se convierte en una fuente de éxtasis perverso. Ji-hoon se retuerce en la silla, su cuerpo tiembla violentamente mientras alcanza su primer clímax con un jadeo.

Pero no se detiene. Apenas recuperando el aliento, continúa, su excitación alimentada por la vista de las fotos de sus víctimas. Su mano se mueve más rápido, su respiración se vuelve errática.

"Más... Necesito más..." Gruñe, su cuerpo se tensa de nuevo. —Muy divertido... tan placentero...

Con un gemido gutural, Ji-hoon llega al clímax por segunda vez, su cuerpo se convulsiona en la silla. Jadeando pesadamente con una sensación de plenitud, mientras recupera algo de aliento abre los ojos. No hay vergüenza en su rostro, solo una satisfacción enfermiza y una sonrisa retorcida.

Permanece inmóvil por un momento, recuperándose. El silencio del apartamento solo se rompe con el lejano zumbido del tráfico nocturno y el suave tic-tac de un reloj en algún lugar de la habitación. Lentamente, se levanta y borra meticulosamente cualquier evidencia de su éxtasis con un pañuelo, que luego guarda en una bolsa hermética para su posterior destrucción.

Ji-hoon walks over to the stainless steel table on which is the black briefcase containing his utensils. He carefully opens it and takes out the small case he brought with him from his pocket. Opening it, the instruments still stained with Mi-sook's blood gleam in the bluish light.

With methodical movements he takes them out one by one and begins to clean each tool. His hands, which moments before were shaking with pleasure, now move in concentration to clean his tools. The smell of disinfectant mixes with the metallic scent of blood, creating a fragrance that to Ji-hoon is more intoxicating than any perfume.

As he cleans, his mind goes over the events of the night. There is no remorse, only a sense of accomplishment and twisted justice. In his head, he repeats Mo-sook's words of pleading for his miserable life.

He finishes cleaning the instruments and places them back in the briefcase, each in its designated place. He closes the briefcase with a satisfying click and places it in its place on the steel table.

Ji-hoon stops in front of the board once more and stares at the images of his victims. His eyes gleam with a mix of madness and anticipation for his next prey. In his mind, he justifies his actions as an act of social cleansing, but the excitement still coursing through his body reveals the true nature of his motives: twisted pleasure and an insatiable thirst for power over life and death.

He walks over to a small refrigerator in the corner of the room and pulls out a bottle of water. He drinks slowly, savoring the coolness that contrasts with the heat still emanating from his body. His gaze falls on a calendar hanging on the wall. Tomorrow he has a surgery scheduled at 9 AM, eliciting a wry smile from her.

He turns off the light and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. The panel slides silently, once again hiding his true nature behind a seemingly normal wall.

In the darkness of his bedroom, Ji-hoon undresses, folding each item of clothing with precision before putting it in the laundry basket. He showers, the hot water washing away the last physical vestiges of the night, though the sensations and memories remain vividly in his mind.

After the shower, he stands in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection. His face shows no signs of recent activity, only the calm serenity of always. He smiles at his reflection, a smile that doesn't reach his cold, calculating eyes, as if practicing his smile for someone, he covers his waist with a towel and walks out with the laundry basket to the laundry room and puts his house clothes, as he calls it, to wash.

Ji-hoon returns to his bedroom and lies down, the high-quality sheets caressing his skin. He closes his eyes, the satisfaction of a dark desire sated mixing with the anticipation of his next act of "justice." His breathing slows, and he soon falls into a deep, undisturbed sleep, as if consciousness can't touch his twisted mind.

Author's note :) I've tried very hard to make it clear how twisted Ji-hoon is, I don't know if I did justice to his madness. What do you think? Leave me your opinion in the comments.

The next day, 8:00 AM, Gangnam Police Station.

The morning sunlight filters through the blinds, casting golden lines across Seo-jun's desk. The young detective is hunched over a stack of reports, a mask of concentration on his face. His eyes, bloodshot from lack of sleep, meticulously scan each page, looking for any detail he might have missed in his investigation into the "Unknown Vigilante."

The silence of the office is abruptly broken when a patrol officer, Lee Jae-sung, bursts into the room. His breathing is labored and his expression urgent, sweat beading on his forehead despite the coolness of the morning.

"Seo-jun!" Jae-sung exclaims, leaning heavily on the detective's desk. His knuckles are white from the force with which he grips the edge of the table. "There's been another murder. Same M.O.."

Seo-jun stands up suddenly, his chair squeaking against the linoleum floor. His eyes, once tired from long hours of studying, are now wide open.

"Where?" he asks, his voice tight as a violin string about to snap.

"In an alley near the Gangnam district," Jae-sung answers, catching his breath. "634-18 Sinsa-dong Street, right behind the Moonlight nightclub. The victim is a woman."

Seo-jun grabs his jacket from the back of his chair and begins to hastily put it on. His movements are quick, almost frantic, but his hands don't shake. Years of training and experience have taught him to remain calm even in the most tense situations.

"Is Detective Kim on his way already?" he asks as he searches for his keys in his desk drawer.

Jae-sung nods, running a hand through his hair damp with sweat. "Yeah, but he's stuck in traffic." He said he'd meet us there.

The two men rush out of the office, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway like a war drum. As they wait for the elevator, Seo-jun pulls out his phone and quickly dials a number he knows by heart.

"Forensic lab," he says as soon as they answer, his voice firm and professional. "I need you to send your best team to the alley at 634-18 Sinsa-dong Street, near the Moonlight nightclub in Gangnam. Make sure Dr. Kang is present."

The car ride is a blur of sirens and flashing lights. Seo-jun uses every second to mentally review the details of previous cases, to find connections, patterns, anything that might help him anticipate the killer's next move.

When they finally arrive at the crime scene, the alley is already cordoned off, illuminated by the flashing lights of patrol cars. Seo-jun approaches the body with a determined stride, pulling on a mask and disposable gloves with practiced movements. The victim lies in an unnatural position, his pale skin contrasting with the dark asphalt of the blood-stained alley. The metallic smell of blood mixes with the stench of nearby trash, creating a nauseating aroma that Seo-jun has learned to ignore over time.

"It's just like Park Sung-ho's case," Seo-jun tells the officers and coroners surrounding him, his voice muffled by the mask. "Look at this cut on the neck, precise, completely identical to the previous cases. Straight to the carotid artery. We can certainly say that this is his signature."

Jae-sung looks at the marked wound in horror. His face has lost all color, and Seo-jun can see that he is struggling to maintain his composure. It is his first crime scene this brutal, and the detective makes a mental note to talk to him later, make sure he is okay.

The coroner, Dr. Kang, a middle-aged man with thick-framed glasses and a perpetually serious expression, nods as he examines the body. "And that's not all. There are multiple superficial cuts on her arms and hands. It looks like she was tortured before she died, just like Park Sung-ho was. The signs of torture are the same."

Dr. Kang pauses, his gaze methodically scanning the body. "With my years of experience and having had to examine all the victims in this case, I can tell that the perpetrator is sick. I wonder if he has some fetish for torture, since he does it so carefully and patiently."

Seo-jun sighs at the coroner's words, a shiver running down his spine despite the morning heat. He examines the body more closely, his trained eyes taking in every detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem.

"There are no signs of a struggle," he observes, his voice tense with concentration. "The killer must have subdued her with ease."

"It seems that way," Dr. Kang answers, nodding. "I can tell she was conscious while being tortured." Just imagining their screams should have alerted someone, but no one saw or heard anything.

Seo-ju

n frowns, his mind working at full speed. "He looks at these marks around her mouth. He silenced her during the attack."

"Detective Lin," a young officer calls, approaching with a bag of evidence. "We found this in the body's belongings."

Seo-jun takes the bag, examining its contents: a business card. His eyes narrow as he reads the visible letters, the blood-stained paper making it difficult to read.

"…Serenity Beauty unique," he reads aloud. Suddenly, his eyes widen, a spark of recognition igniting in his gaze. "Wait, this reminds me of something…"

With hands slightly shaking from the excitement of the discovery, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out another similar card, the one he found at the Park Sung-ho scene. He places them side by side, his mind working at full speed to connect the dots.

At that moment, the sound of hurried footsteps announces Detective Kim's arrival. The veteran detective arrives panting slightly, his face flushed from exertion and a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

"What do we have?" Kim asks, catching his breath. His eyes, sharp despite his fatigue, quickly scan the scene.

Seo-jun turns to him, showing him the two cards. "I think we've found a connection, Detective. Both victims had the same business card."

Kim frowns, studying the cards intently. His expression suddenly changes, a spark of recognition crossing his weathered face.

He then turns his gaze to the corpse, his eyes narrowing as he examines the victim's face. "I know this victim," he says, his deep voice echoing in the alley. "It's Park Mi-sook. She had connections in the criminal underworld, especially in child trafficking."

The lack of emotion in Kim's voice as he reveals this information surprises Seo-jun. "Wait, she's a trafficker? Why was she free?" "He asks, confusion and a hint of indignation coloring his voice.

Kim shrugs, a gesture that seems out of place given the gravity of the situation. "Don't you know, kid? It's not easy to lock up those with connections, and she did. So…"

Seo-jun nods, a little annoyed by what he just learned. The pity he initially felt for the victim quickly fades, replaced by a complex mix of emotions he can't fully name.

"So does Park Sung-ho," Seo-jun says, his mind racing. "They both had criminal histories involving the exploitation of minors."

Kim nods slowly, his expression turning thoughtful. "It seems so. That means our favorite killer now kills child traffickers. Strange, he changed prey. Before he chose at random, the only thing they had in common was that they were criminals, but now… his methods are changing—two criminals who are dedicated to the same thing, this is the first time."

Seo-jun frowns, processing this new information. "Do you think he's refining his focus? Becoming more… selective?"

"It's possible," Kim replies, scratching his chin. "Or maybe he always had a specific target and we're only now seeing the pattern."

"But why the change now?" Seo-jun asks, more to himself than to Kim. "What's changed?"

Kim shakes his head. "That's the million-dollar question, rookie. And it's what we need to figure out."

Seo-jun vuelve su atención al cuerpo, su mente todavía se tambalea con las implicaciones de este nuevo desarrollo. "Mira estas heridas", continúa, señalando los cortes en el cuerpo de la víctima. "Son extremadamente precisos. Nuestro asesino debe tener conocimientos médicos.

Kim asiente. —Bueno, ahora que esta teoría está más o menos confirmada, ¿algo más, novato?

"Sí," responde Seo-jun, su voz cargada de determinación. "No hay huellas dactilares ni ADN del asesino". Es meticuloso, cuidadoso. Él sabe lo que está haciendo.

Un técnico se acerca con un informe preliminar, interrumpiendo su conversación. "Detectives, hemos revisado las cámaras de seguridad del club. Atraparon a la víctima entrando al callejón seguida por un hombre encapuchado, pero nunca más se vio al hombre encapuchado salir".

El detective Kim y Seo-jun se quedan en silencio por un momento, procesando esta nueva información. Finalmente, Kim habla, con la voz entrecortada por la molestia. "Eso significa que fue en otra dirección. Busca una salida alternativa de este callejón.

A medida que los oficiales comienzan a buscar, Seo-jun y Kim intercambian miradas significativas. "Nuestro asesino es inteligente", murmura Kim, con un dejo de frustración en su voz. "Sabe cómo cubrir sus huellas".

Seo-jun mira el cuerpo de Mi-sook, su mente se tambalea con las implicaciones. "Sea quien sea, tiene habilidades médicas y acceso a información privilegiada. Estamos tratando con alguien peligroso, detective Kim.

Mientras el equipo forense continúa procesando la escena, Seo-jun y Kim se alejan para discutir su próximo movimiento. El sol ya está alto en el cielo, bañando el callejón con una luz que parece incongruentemente brillante para la oscuridad del crimen que acaban de presenciar.

"Tenemos que investigar esa clínica de belleza", dice Seo-jun, con su mente ya trazando el siguiente paso. "Si tanto Mi-sook como Park Sung-ho tuvieran conexiones allí, podría ser el nexo que estamos buscando".

Kim asiente, frotándose la barbilla pensativamente. "Buen punto. Pero tendremos que ser discretos. Si alertamos al asesino, podría desaparecer.

Seo-jun vuelve a mirar el cuerpo de Mi-sook, ahora cubierto por una sábana blanca. – Hay algo más, detective Kim. La forma en que opera el asesino... Es casi como si estuviera realizando una cirugía. Los cortes son demasiado precisos, demasiado controlados para ser obra de un aficionado".

—¿Está sugiriendo que nuestro asesino podría ser un cirujano? —pregunta Kim, arqueando una ceja.

"Creo que sí," asiente Seo-jun. "Alguien que sabe exactamente cómo infligir dolor sin matar inmediatamente a la víctima. Alguien que conoce la anatomía humana lo suficientemente bien como para hacer ese corte final con tanta precisión".

Kim suspira profundamente, pasando una mano por su cabello canoso. "Esto complica las cosas. El número de posibles sospechosos acaba de aumentar considerablemente".

"Pero también nos da un perfil más claro", argumenta Seo-jun. "Estamos buscando a alguien con habilidades médicas y con acceso a información privilegiada sobre los criminales".

"Parece que sí, novato", dice Kim con un suspiro.

—¿Cuál es nuestro próximo paso, detective? Pregunta Seo-jun, ansioso por avanzar con la investigación. Kim mira hacia la escena, sus ojos escanean el callejón una vez más antes de responder. "Primero investigaremos la clínica. Vamos a ver qué encontramos allí". Ambos abandonan la escena.

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